he crossed, and another that he never saw the racks on in three passages
he had made in the Norumbia.

The weight of evidence was, he thought, in favor of the Norumbia, but
when they went another Sunday to Hoboken, and saw the ship, Mrs. March
liked her so much less than the Colmannia that she could hardly wait for
Monday to come; she felt sure all the good rooms on the Colmannia would
be gone before they could engage one.

From a consensus of the nerves of all the ladies left in town so late in
the season, she knew that the only place on any steamer where your room
ought to be was probably just where they could not get it. If you went
too high, you felt the rolling terribly, and people tramping up and down
on the promenade under your window kept you awake the whole night; if
you went too low, you felt the engine thump, thump, thump in your head
the whole way over. If you went too far forward, you got the pitching;
if you went aft, on the kitchen side, you got the smell of the cooking.
The only place, really, was just back of the dining-saloon on the south
side of the ship; it was smooth there, and it was quiet, and you had the
sun in your window all the way over. He asked her if he must take their
room there or nowhere, and she answered that he must do his best, but
that she would not be satisfied with any other place.

In his despair he went down to the steamer office, and took a room which
one of the clerks said was the best. When he got home, it appeared from
reference to the ship's plan that it was the very room his wife had
wanted from the beginning, and she praised him as if he had used a
wisdom beyond his sex in getting it.

He was in the enjoyment of his unmerited honor when a belated lady came
with her husband for an evening call, before going into the country. At
sight of the plans of steamers on the Marches' table, she expressed the
greatest wonder and delight that they were going to Europe. They had
supposed everybody knew it, by this time, but she said she had not heard
a word of it; and she went on with some felicitations which March found
rather unduly filial. In getting a little past the prime of life he did
not like to be used with too great consideration of his years, and he
did not think that he and his wife were so old that they need be treated
as if they were going on a golden wedding journey, and heaped with all
sorts of impertinent prophecies of their enjoying it so much and
being so much the